


Harry Potter Looks For Home

by Noble_Lady_of_Magvel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noble_Lady_of_Magvel/pseuds/Noble_Lady_of_Magvel
Summary: AU where Harry was raised by the Malfoys but yearns for his own family. Oneshot.





	Harry Potter Looks For Home

A once-peasant village in Wiltshire, straw-thatched roofs dotted the landscape. Quaint houses of yellow and dun sprawled across the gently rolling hills. In the still of the night, a handsome manor house grew out of the darkness, lights glinting in the diamond-paned windows. Malfoy Manor sat high atop of a hill overlooking fields of waving nettles and oatgrass. The regal estate loomed grandly over the rest of the small dwellings like a castle, its four tall spires topped with elegant points. There were no stone walls but high verdant hedges curved around the manor, running off into the distance while impressive wrought-iron gates barred entrance.

 

Inside the hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. Enchanted torches lit up every few feet of the stone walls and the eyes of the pale-faced portraits mounted in elegant frames followed the two boys as they hurried past to the drawing room.

 

Almost breathless with excitement, young Draco Malfoy's pale face was flushed as he panted down the halls. He was clutching a thin wooden box under one arm and dragging another boy, almost against his will, by his wrist. His little friend Harry Potter was a small, thin boy with knobby knees and messy black hair. Underneath his fringe large circular glasses threatened to slip off his nose but he pushed them back with his hand as he ran.

 

They burst through ornate double doors to an empty room, the long table bare and chairs scattered carelessly. There were tall, high windows but in the dead of night illumination came from a roasting fire beneath a marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded antique clock.Their clattering footsteps echoed through the room before they came to a halt and crept quietly through the room.

 

The two boys stopped at a spot on the floor which had three faded rings drawn with chalk. Draco unpacked the thin wooden box and popped open the latch, revealing a complete set of gobstones. Thirty glass balls of differing sizes with misty colours swirling like fog sat neatly in their wooden tiers.

 

"The game is Snake Pit," Draco declared and as soon as the words left his mouth a small hole formed in the wooden floor before their eyes.  

 

With deft flicks of their fingers Draco and Harry sent gobstones snapping towards the centre as close to the hole they could without falling in.

 

"Drat!" 

 

Draco had overshot and his last gobstone had hurtled away, hitting the wall thud. He glared at Harry as if it was somehow his fault.

 

Keeping his eyes lowered on the floor Harry purposely sent his last shot straight in the pit and the two boys watched the black hole swallow up his gobstone, just for a moment before spitting it back up at him. 

 

Harry always had to let Draco win all the games they played, it was an unspoken rule.

 

Everybody knew about Harry Potter's parents, how they had died trying to stop Lord Voldemort and how he had ended up with the Malfoys. His next guardian should have been his traitorous godfather Sirius Black but he was in Azkaban, imprisoned for betraying his parents to You-Know-Who. The ministry of magic had decided that Harry would be passed onto Sirius's next of kin, his cousin Narcissa Malfoy who had a son just his age and more importantly, a prominent husband who was an authoritative figure in the wizarding community.

 

Although the Malfoys had never exactly mistreated Harry he got the feeling that he was as welcome as dross on the self-polishing silver. Lucius and Narcissa only spoke to him when they had to, looking at him with barely-concealed disdain and narrows eyes as if saying,

 

"Why are you here? Don't you know you don't belong in our noble family?"

 

When he was younger and braver and old enough to understand that he was the hero that had stopped You-Know-Who's reign of terror he had, in a fit of rebellion dared to talk back to them.

 

The result was as if he had committed a great crime. Narcissa had froze rigid and Lucius had went white. They had taken him aside to scold him for daring to talk to them like that after all the Malfoys had done for him, taking him in and feeding him and clothing him and giving them all the luxuries they had as if he were their own son. "You are really just a beggar now, so put that arrogance aside. Gratitude will better become you in your present circumstances," Lucius had hissed in a deadly tone. Lucius Malfoy never liked to raise his voice.

 

On the other hand, Draco was oddly possessive of his foster brother, the famous Harry Potter. He always had Harry locked in his grip, stood too close, and wouldn't let Harry out of his sight. It was as if poor, hapless Harry was his prized possession. They slept in the same bedroom, four-poster beds on opposite sides but more often than not Draco always ordered Harry to sleep with him.

 

In the winter when it was cold Draco liked the warmth of Harry’s body, he would wrap his arms around him and lean his cheek against his. Only when he was certain that Harry was next to him and couldn't leave would he fall asleep. "I love you Harry." he had murmured one night when the slanted snow-white flurries were beating against the windowpanes.

 

Harry hadn't replied but let out of fake snore and pretended to be asleep. Sometimes he thought of his parents, and how they must have loved him. He knew the Malfoys didn't love him (well maybe Draco did) and Harry was only politely fond of them. He was grateful, but didn't he love them.

One June day Harry woke up as usual, yawned and padded down to the dining room with Draco pulling him by his shirtsleeve. From the kitchen he could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and Dobby's yelps and sobs as he bashed himself on the head with a rolling pin every time he burnt a piece of bacon or toast.  

 

At the table Lucius set down his newspaper with a crinkle and a allowed his son a thin smile. "Today's a big day. Draco’s tenth birthday."

 

Draco leaned forward eagerly, a grin stretching from ear to ear, “Where are my presents?” he demanded.

 

A smiling Narcissa wheeled in a trolley exploding with bright colours of wrapping paper and ribbons and bows. "Happy Birthday Draco." She air kissed both cheeks, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

 

"Happy Birthday Draco," Harry murmured. He had bought Draco a box of hocus pocus pops with his pocket money and the small parcel sat demurely on the bottom of the trolley, overshadowed by the larger showier gifts.

 

Draco tore into his presents, covering the floor with shredded paper and ribbon as he oohed and aahed over everything. There were sweets and toys that flashed and banged and even books, which Draco scoffed at but peeped in the jackets and Harry could see he was pleased with the titles.

 

Dobby had brought in their breakfast, holding the trays above his head and struggling to reach the table while they waited but no one moved to help. 

 

Harry Potter shovelled down his stack of Belgian waffles covered in whipped cream and powdered sugar while Draco was preoccupied. Lucius and Narcissa didn't eat breakfast but sipped their black coffee and watched their son with proud smiles. When it seemed Draco was done and the room looked like a hurricane went through it, Lucius pointed to a long thin package wrapped in drab brown paper and tied up with string that had hidden behind a bigger box.

 

"There’s one more, Draco."

 

With curious fingers Draco flung off the wrapping paper to reveal a long wooden pole with a whisk of twigs tied to the end, it was a broom.

 

"Whoa, a real broomstick!" His eyes widened with amazement as he held the broom reverently. 

 

Even Harry had put aside his fork and wandered closer for a better look.

 

Draco turned it over in his hands and read the lettering etched into the handle. "It's a comet two-sixty! Thank you father, it's the best present in the world!"

 

Harry couldn't help but feel a stab of envy. They had both whizzed through the halls on toy brooms when they were younger, their toes barely skimming the carpet. It had been clear that Harry was the better flyer which irritated Draco and he made Harry follow when his heart ached to race ahead. 

 

The Malfoys didn’t like Harry outshining their son and he was certain that when his own birthday came a month later, in his own pile of gifts a broomstick wouldn’t be among them.  

 

"You'll learn how to fly later," Lucius drawled. "But today as your birthday treat we're spending the day with grandmother."

 

Draco's grandmother Vivienne Malfoy had retired to a small, quiet village called Milfordshire after her husband's death a short ways away from Malfoy Manor. Draco had complained that his grandma was old and smelled strange and always pinched his cheeks but Milfordshire was a more active wizarding community with all sorts of fun things to do. Or so Harry had been told. 

 

He had never went, as it was strictly a Malfoy affair and there were some things that their blood relations barred Harry from. Whenever the Malfoys visited their matriarch Harry would fall into care of uncle Remus, a quiet, battered, middle-aged man who had been a friend of his parents.

 

Harry liked uncle Remus a whole lot more than Lucius and Narcissa. He smiled at Harry for one thing, and was always happy to answer his questions about his parents. Harry felt comfortable around uncle Remus, unlike his foster parents who under their constant judgement he felt a desperate need to escape from. 

 

Once he had asked why he couldn't live with uncle Remus instead of the Malfoys but the pensive man, hunched under the weight of the loss of all three of his closest friends, had shook his head sadly and said that he just couldn't. The Malfoys said the same later, sneering at the mention of his name.

 

Today, when uncle Remus asked Harry what he wanted to do, Harry exclaimed that he wanted to visit his parents' grave. Uncle Remus had drew in a sharp breath but Harry had protested that he was nearly ten and old enough to know about his family. He held his breath as uncle Remus had looked him gravely up and down.

 

"Alright. They’re your parents and you deserve to know where they lived."

  
  


Godric's Hollow in West Country was only a short distance from Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and uncle Remus only had to flag down a muggle cab to take them there. 

 

It dropped them off at a quiet, almost desolate village square. Blue and yellow flowers waved from behind fences and long grass, it smelled so sweet and inviting that Harry imagined that if he laid down and closed his eyes he would fall asleep.

 

He followed uncle Remus as if in a daze to the centre of the square and approached a stone obelisk, but when they approached the obelisk morphed into a statue. 

 

He had seen photographs of his parents and recognized them instantly. James, Lily, and infant Harry in her arms. His eyes widened and he felt a lump in his throat at the longing of what should have been. His fingers brushed his mother's hand and fell away.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and Uncle Remus stared at him sadly. "You look just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes," he said quietly.

 

He showed them the house they had lived, it was a quaint cottage with lookalike cottages on either side. According to Uncle Remus it was enchanted to be invisible to muggles. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in the dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was were the curse had backfired. In the front he could see a memorial sign. A number of visitors had written on the sign, either signing their names in Everlasting Ink, carving their initials, or leaving messages, including a number addressed directly to Harry Potter expressing their support for him.

 

"Can we go inside?" Harry asked in a whisper, as if not to disturb ghosts.

 

Remus nodded and they stepped inside, through the doorway. The inside was undisturbed, as if it was waiting for its occupants to come back. It was simply furnished, a table, chairs, a neat white kitchen. There was even a stack of unopened mail on a corner table next to the sofa. 

 

With trembling hands Harry picked up the top envelope from the pile. There was RETURN TO SENDER stamped over it in black ink and he slit it open to reveal a long rambling letter to a woman named Petunia. His mouth fell open in shock when he read on and the letter revealed that his mother had a sister. No one had ever told him that.

 

Harry drew in a great intake of breath as his eyes furiously scanned the letter. He had family. His mother’s sister, her husband, and a cousin who was the same age as him and Draco.

 

"Uncle Remus, why didn't anyone ever tell me I had an aunt?" he turned to Remus questioningly.

 

His uncle seemed to shift away from his stare. "Well they aren't our kind Harry. And there's a reason that letter was sent back." There was a warning edge in his voice. 

 

"But-but-but... I have  _ family. _ " He held the letter reverently with his eyes shining like it was the greatest treasure he could have discovered.

 

Remus seemed to realize his mistake as he led Harry back out. "Now don't you do something foolish like try to find these muggle relatives of yours," he said sternly. "James told me he met them once, a nasty couple the Dursleys were, he seemed to dislike them and they dislike our kind." But Harry didn't hear his words, so caught up with the idea that he wasn't alone, that he still had family out there and a place where he belonged.

 

When they returned to Malfoy Manor the others weren't home yet but Uncle Remus bade him goodbye and shuffled away hurriedly. At suppertime the Malfoys still hadn’t arrived so Dobby made Harry his favourite steak and kidney pie and honey treacle for dessert.

 

In bed he laid awake, wondering what the Dursleys would be like. Warm, loving, cosy, something warm and hopeful began to spread in his chest. Yes he would go live with them instead, he decided. A smile twitched on his cheeks as his eyes closed, his last thought was that he would finally be heading towards a better place. 

The next morning when the Malfoys returned, Draco bursting with sweets and cakes and more presents and wild stories about getting into a scuffle with muggle helicopters on his broom, Harry told them that he would be leaving.

 

He explained about Aunt Petunia and how he couldn't believe no one had told him about her until now and how she would take him in.

 

“But they’re  _ muggles _ ,” Draco protested. “Harry you can't, I forbid you from leaving me!” his voice rose to a shrill shriek.

 

Lucius and Narcissa in contrast seemed mildly amused. "Fine. I can't stop you on this childish whim. But you'll come crawling back, living with  _ muggles.  _ What a thought." They had laughed together and then told Dobby to make some breakfast for the boys.

 

But Harry was determined, sick of the coldness in Malfoy manor and out of place. He made a plan, secretly changing sickles and knuts into muggles pounds and purchasing a map from the nearby shop. He scanned at the lines and streets and wrote down which buses he would need to take.

 

One next day he packed a backpack with a few belongings and told his guardians that he would be moving in with the Dursleys. Draco flung himself around Harry and wailed as if he was being murdered but Harry peeled himself away. “I’ll come back and visit, Draco,” he lied.  

 

Narcissa gave a raise of a perfectly plucked brow and Lucius barely looked over his newspaper. “You're actually serious about this? You’re being silly Harry. Go, by all means but I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

 

Feeling triumphant he shouldered his bag and walked out that door, determined to never return.

 

Taking the bus was a new experience, he dropped the same coins as the businessmen in front of him did and got on.

 

_ Whoosh _

 

The sudden jerk of motion caught him by surprise and he nearly fell over but an old woman caught him by the arm. “Watch yourself dearie.”

 

Harry continued his journey, unfolding and consulting his map when needed. Eventually the bus dropped him off in Little Whinging and after a half hour walk he managed to find Privet Drive. The lawns were manicured and the houses were neat and uniform. They weren't nearly as grand as Malfoy Manor but Harry reasoned that it was cozier, cheerier, it was a place that smelled of home cooked meals and bicycles were left carelessly on the edge of driveways as children dashed inside for dinner.

 

Emboldened by the hopeful image in his head, Harry raised his hand to knock on the door, imagining the look of surprise, then joy on his aunt’s face when she realized her last living relative was standing at her door.

 

He gave a few sharp raps and then waited.

 

There was a shout from the blare of the television that there was someone at the door and what looked like a large pink blob in a shirt and trousers opened the door.

 

“Whudduwant?” he grunted.

 

“Hello, is this the Dursley residence? I’m looking for Petunia,” Harry said politely.

 

“Dudley who is it?” the roaring voice called from the living room. “If it’s another one of those bloody door-to-door salesmen tell them to bugger off and bother someone else.”

 

“It’s a boy, and he’s looking for mum!” the fat boy roared back.

 

There was the sound of hurried footsteps and a boney, thin woman with horse-like teeth came dashing over, drying her hands on a tea towel. “Yes? Someone’s looking for me?”

 

“Yes, my name is Harry and I’m your nephew,” he said politely. He had rehearsed the words over and over in his head during the bus ride but the words sounded strange to his ears when he said them.  

 

He waited for her to shriek with surprise and throw her arms around him but she simply dropped her tea towel and her face slowly turned chalk white.

 

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “I made it explicitly clear to Lily that her kind wasn't welcome in my home. Go away!”

 

Harry was stunned. “Go! Go back to where you came from! Get!” She shooed him away with her hand, an expression of disgust and pure hatred on her face.

 

There was the thundering footsteps of a much heavier man before another face, this one with a large bushy moustache appeared. “Now what’s this Petunia?”

 

“Just my good-for-nothing sister’s son,” she snarled, her face a mask of fury. 

 

His uncle seemed to swell up as almost like a bullfrog, his moustache twitching. “Well you heard her! Go on, scram! We don't want the likes of you!” The door slammed violently in Harry’s face and he stood frozen, stunned at what happened.

 

He had imagined such a happy homecoming of love and acceptance, but with the Dursley's mean and ugly words it vanished like a cloud. Numbly, he turned around, but where would he go? His feet wouldn't move and he collapsed, sitting on the steps with his face in his hands. He told himself he wasn’t a baby and he wouldn't cry, but he found his shoulders shaking with sobs.

 

Disappointment and failure washed over him, dark feelings of dejection and worthlessness until he hated himself as much as the Dursleys had. 

 

He felt a small hand on his shoulder and looked up. It was Draco, with a strangely tender expression on his face. 

 

“How did you get here?” he asked. 

 

“I followed you.”

 

There was silence. 

 

“You were right Draco, I shouldn't have gone,” Harry said miserably.

 

Draco didn't say anything but reached his arms around his friend and gave him a hug. His hand curled around Harry’s fingers, the warmth seeming to ebb into his own. “It’s alright Harry. Come on, let’s go home.” The two boys set off in the waning sun, their shadows lengthening, hand in hand. 

 

He hadn’t found what he was looking for but still, a warm reassuring feeling spread from his chest, because he knew at least one person cared about him. 

 

**_And that's all that she wrote…_ **


End file.
